In Err, My Suffering
by Ms Western Ink
Summary: She welcomed him back, but that didn't quell the demons. Not his, not hers. She didn't shoo him off, or have him go, she pulled him closer. Always worried. Always there. Always his. [AxM]
1. Chapter 1

In Err, My Suffering

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NOTICE!

This version of the story is **CENSORED**!

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Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or the characters thereof. Used without permission.

Credit: This story was inspired by a fanfic I truly love called "Loving a Killer" written by Tiian. I got the idea from reading that, and the said author's permission to write this piece.

* * *

Aoshi sat up, unable to sleep. The weather was humid, making for unpleasant sleeping conditions. He could hear thunder far off and expected the rain would come soon. It was getting to be that season, rainy.

He stood, dropping his blankets to the floor where they crumpled over his futon. His wrinkled yukata felt uncomfortable as his skin perspired just beneath the material, but not enough for it to cling to him.

He slid open his chamber door and stepped into the hallway. Maybe a walk could clear his mind of thoughts he didn't want.

Of thoughts he had many nights... thoughts of her... thoughts about Misao.

The same thoughts that left him aching with desire as much as they left him pulsing with unbearable shame.

As he turned, he caught sight of her by the window at the end of the hall. Her back as to him, her long braid hanging over one shoulder. Even when she slept, she kept it braided?

Why didn't she let it loose? Her hair had to be beautiful, but she kept it bound and tight within that braid.

He wandered closer.

So...

So, she couldn't sleep either?

It didn't surprise him. Misao had never slept well in humid weather, just tossed and turned.

But that had been a long time ago, he thought. He didn't know much about her anymore.

No... not much. Not too much, he thought, recalling the softness of her skin and lightness of her frame. Her hands were so tiny, her body so slight against his own, but her heart beat just as strongly.

The image of pale skin, the rise of her chest as her breath hitched sharply, the wide sparkling eyes... Not much at all really...

Her body was one thing he knew very well, but that wasn't _her_. The living, breathing entity that was Misao.

He took one step toward her and then another. They needed to talk. He needed to say something. Something about that. Something. Anything.

No... not anything.

She deserved an apology. Even that wasn't good enough. She deserved so much and he could give her nothing. She deserved to punish him, as awfully as he'd punished her, to whip him till he bled. But she wouldn't.

She would never dare hurt him.

He neared, his resolve crumbling each step that took him closer. She sucked the life right out of him, making him faintly tremble. How could he face her this way? So casually, so calmly?

As though it had never happened at all...

Images of Misao in his arms bombarded him, her broken gasps, her pleading voice calling to him as his tongue probed the softest areas of her body. His hands on the inside of either of her thighs as she whimpered brokenly at his touch, arching, pleading, but not a word to stop. No pleas for him _not _to touch her, only a silent begging with her eyes not to _hurt _her.

Had it been panic or passion in her voice? He didn't want to know, but the sound of it rung true in his dreams each night. Another hour of suffering as the memory replayed again and again. His greatest torment, his favorite pleasure.

He stopped just so close and she turned only halfway to view him. He'd been silent, her perception impressed him.

That was his girl, picking up on the prescence of others. He expected nothing less of her.

"Can't sleep, Aoshi-sama?"

Even now she called him that. 'Aoshi-sama'. It left a deep, bitter taste in his mouth.

Even after he'd held her to an open forest ground and stolen her virginity from her, she would still refer to him with such respect?

He remembered far too much of that day.

Misao had wanted to share his pain, hadn't she? To understand? To know what he was doing, where he'd been, what he'd been thinking attacking Okina the way he had. All in front of her, all for nothing. An effort wasted, lives destroyed, and irrepairable damage done to his Misao.

The girl he'd raised until he'd had to leave her to keep her safe. A girl he'd seen speak her first words and steps. A girl he'd found a woman when he'd returned staring up at him with painfully soulful eyes inquiring of him... _loving _him. The same girl inside her when he'd left, all grown up now wanting him to come home to her.

And what had he done, but share his pain by inflicting it on her? Holding her beneath him, hips roughly thrusting against hers, mouth sparing bruising kisses along her skin, her lips.

"No," he replied. "You also?"

She nodded. "Never did like nights like these..." She trailed off, looking back out the window. "Too hard to sleep..."

Her eyes seemed sad. She always seemed sad at night. He'd watched her take walks around the grounds when dark was long set in and everyone was in their beds. As though she couldn't reveal she wasn't such a bouncy person in the daylight, always worried about people worrying about her. That if she didn't act and speak a certain way... No, he didn't want to think about that.

They didn't know.

They couldn't. Misao would never tell. She would never ...

"You shouldn't want me here," he tipped his head back, turning his empty gaze up. "You shouldn't want me anywhere near you."

Sometimes he couldn't look at her. Sometimes he feared one day he'd be looking into eyes accusing him. Eyes full of hatred and bitterness. They never were... but someday... he thought. Someday they could be.

He slid to the floor, pulling his knees up feeling weak. She made him feel weak, worthless. Hadn't he ruined the treasure given to him by the former Okashira? Hadn't he broken the promise he'd made to take good care of her? Hadn't he?

The feel of her mouth, soft and wet beneath his caused him to shift. He could hear her whimpering, hands on either side of her as she lay beneath him.

She obediently kept her hands up, high above her head, the soft inner skin of her thighs against his hips as she had wrapped them up around him. Such a good girl... Such an obedient one. He silently cursed himself, trying to shove away the memory.

"Who more than I has seen and felt the devil in you, Aoshi? Who, more than I, should decide if you stay here?"

Her voice was so sweet in the dark, a perfect silky caress. He pushed aside thoughts of caresses. It was not the time for such.

Felt the devil in him? What a way to say it... but how true, who more than her should decide that?

Her maturity startled him and he was suddenly and amazingly proud of the woman she'd become. Even if she did hide that part of her away from the others most of the time. So beautiful, so perfect in the darkness. Only loosing her in-bound maturity beneath the dark veil of night...

He groaned sharply.

He turned his ashen gaze up to her to find her looking back.

"Sometimes it's hard having you around, I won't lie. Sometimes I can't sleep, sometimes I wake up from sleep with only you and that afternoon in my head... Sometimes it bothers me because it makes me feel weak. But in the end it doesn't matter as long as you're here where I know you're safe and healthy and not under a bridge starving somewhere."

Even now, she could say such things about him? To worry about him when he still caused her pain? When he caused her worry? Enough that she couldn't rest comfortably?

She kneeled, pressing his knees apart so she could get closer to him. The material of his yukata parted, but darkness was filmed over their bodies, coating them.

"As long as you're okay, I'm okay. It's all that matters to me."

"You could do so much more with your life... if I wasn't in it."

Her smile surprised him. "You're it, Aoshi. The only reason I get up in the morning is for you." Her voice was soft and breathy. He grit his teeth. "It's always been that way. When I was little- I wanted to make you happy, when you left- I wanted to bring you back, now that you're here- I want you to stay. You're my personal shrine, without you I'd be completely lost."

Her attempt at humor was almost lost in the darkness. Her closeness was heating his skin even further. He'd been fighting arousing thoughts of Misao all night...

Fighting so desperately what he in equal desparity wanted...and didn't want.

Imagine, he thought bitterly, the Okashira of the Oniwabanshuu... Once described as being able to tame and have any woman he wanted... Fighting himself over a pained lust for his previous ward...

Misao put her hands up on the wall at either side of his head and leaned slowly closer to him.

His heart was pounding hard in his chest.

_Don't... _He thought.

Her breath fanned gently against his lips before they touched.

_Don't... _

A feathery caress that had his muscles twitching as he restrained himself from moving, desire seeping deeply into every pore.

_Misao... _He pleaded futiley, the words never reaching the lips she occupied.

How he longed for her. As powerfully as he had that afternoon as she stood there, gazing at him. He'd wanted her so badly, wanted and saw no reason to wait. He hadn't been coming back, he was marching toward death. He wasn't going to see her again, ever. What was one afternoon between them? One afternoon full of mutual anguish and desire?

She pressed her lips more ardently against his and he groaned, her arms sliding down from the wall to work themselves around him as she did what he hadn't allowed her to do before. What he hadn't allowed her to do the last time she'd been so close in his arms: embrace him.

Her tongue slid along his lips as he struggled to keep his body still and not slide her yukata off her shoulders and plant kisses across the delicate curves of her body.

_You shouldn't... _

He'd done so before in a wild frenzy, teeth nipping at her soft skin. Pinching her sweet skin between his teeth leaving little bruises with the force.

She pressed herself against him completely, sliding her body against him and he checked a groan. Her hands slid up, tilting his chin down toward her before sliding her mouth against his again, her tongue sliding past his lips.

_Misao... _

His body trembled with restraint. He tried, desperately, to remember her. His ward, his little girl, but the thought would not come to him. He couldn't remember...!

_ He couldn't remember her! _

She was someone else, _that _little girl. He only remembered _this _one, this _woman_, and the hot, tight feel of himself inside her.

He longed to scoop her up and pull her legs across his lap. How easy, how perfect it would be to have her. Here, against the wall, on the floor - **anywhere**.

Did she know what she was doing?

Oh, she knew, he thought as she arched herself against his aching body, again, and repeating the motion, rocking slowly. She knew.

Was she punishing him? He deserved it, he told himself.

_Ah... Punish me... _

She pulled back just enough to moan his name, a sweet whsiper against his lips and his restraint slipped slightly.

"Aoshi..."

He drew his hands up to cup her head and pulled her mouth back to his, thrusting his tongue between her lips. He dropped his hands to her shoulders, sliding his bare fingers beneath the collar of her thin white yukata. He pulled, sliding the material off her shoulders clear down to her elbows, his hands crumpling the material. He wanted to rip it... Rip it clear off so nothing could keep him from her.

Nothing.

Not now.

Not ever.

She belonged to him, always, his little girl or not. He no longer cared.

His body throbbed with wanting her, his hands tightening, sliding down to the tie at her waist. He pulled and the sash obliged, loosing around her.

He pushed the fabric farther, as her lips pressed more ardently before she broke away, heaving for air.

He licked his lips, eyes staring up at her, glittering in the darkness as the material pooled at her waist. He shoved it further, and it slipped past her narrow hips. He trailed his fingers lower, itching for the feel of her again. He wanted her. Now.

He was seconds from pushing her back onto the floor and taking her when there was a scuffle farther down the hall.

They broke apart breathlessly, bodies hot and wanting.

Aching...

"Someone's awake..." Misao mused staring down the dark hall.

Aoshi moved to stand, he had to get away from her. Immediately. Before any damage was done to their precarious relationship.

But her hands on his shoulders stilled him a moment. She leaned close, her lips brushing his cheek and then his ear.

"It's not always a bad memory, Aoshi. Sometimes all I can remember is your hands lifting my hips and you being inside me and wanting so desperately to feel it again."

He pushed her away abruptly and clamered to his feet. No, he had to get away from her.

Why did she have to tell him that?

Why?

He walked back to his room, closing his door primly behind him. He breathed unevenly, his body twitching.

He turned his head upward, breathing hard.

Who? Who was punishing him?

Was it her?

Or was he doing this to himself?

He no longer cared who was responsible. He just wanted more of the sweet torture.

* * *

She watched him go, pulling herself up from the floor, sliding herself back into her yukata. He slid back into his room silently, no closer to sleep than she was.

She leaned back against the wall, fanning herself lightly, dropping her head back staring up at the darkened ceiling as Aoshi had done.

There was no doubt he was tormented over her. As much as she was over him, but... probably in different ways. She had thought it would happen... Here on the hall floor...

Since he'd returned he'd _looked_ at her several times with a glint in his eyes that threatened to scald. Most of the time that look caused her to ache, her body responding to that one singular glance that almost always vanished before she could even think to act on it, let alone contemplate it.

But he pushed her away, not unexpected. Always one to deny himself, he'd always had that annoying quality. But she wasn't willing to push him just yet.

She wanted to, her body ached, throbbing for him, but she refused.

At least, not yet.

She wasn't ready for him yet. She could still feel the harsh grating of his hips in her memory. His touch had made her ache like nothing she'd ever known before.

She sighed softly, feeling even hotter.

Sometimes her memories left her feeling wistful about what could have been, other times she woke in cold sweats, heart beating furiously, an irrational fear causing her to tremble where she lay.

She would never get over Aoshi. She would never forget that day, but nor would she ever regret it.

It had been the single day she'd gotten a lead on him, only _after _he'd fought Jiya. Only after she'd found him. Only after he'd told her he never wanted to see her again. Only after all the things that had completely broken her heart.

She could never forget the coal black eyes that burned with a hatred for life. They had burned for her. She had seen it and not escaped from it and she'd suffered for it.

He'd brought his suffering to her and burned them both.

_He never once looked away from her. Never. His eyes, burning bright with darkness, clouded with desire had seared her. He had pulled her hips into his lap as he kneeled easily, leaning over her, his elbows on the ground, his arms curled up behind her, holding her while... _

_ She gasped softly. _

_ Pained... She recalled. She couldn't repress the wince each time their bodies came together or the startled cries that escaped her throat. _

But...

Why couldn't she regret it?

Why?

But it was okay. She'd be fine and Aoshi-sama was safe. That was all that mattered really. She could deal with the dreams and the cold-sweats. Those eyes scared her somtimes, but only when she slept.

She could deal with her fears and worries fueled by her dreams. It was the desire the worried her. The lust, the craving to slip down the hall and beg him touch her again. The uncontrollable throbbing that made her want him to pull her hips to his again and make her feel the sweet anguish all over again, to see his eyes...

Those beautiful eyes not longer clouded with the haze of darkness... To watch him, to see his pleasure at touching her... even if it afforded her some discomfort. She could handle that - she could handle sating his pleasure.

Beacause it was Aoshi and the desire was for _her._ He wanted _her_. That made her desire for him to touch her only magnify... She wanted it... She wanted to let him do whatever he wanted with her - she wanted to so badly... but...

It was that, that worried her.

Wasn't it wrong?

She hadn't told anyone. She had never said a word about seeing Aoshi that afternoon.

_He knelt over her, panting. Her body relaxed against him, as she just laid there. _

Omasu and Okon had been honest and forthright about sex with her. Somehow the thought had left her as numb as it did tingly. Aoshi's seed inside her...

Her... Misao.

It was something she'd wondered of, but only when alone. Her dark little fantasies, replaying the women's words in her head as she wondered what it would be like... Being with Aoshi like that.

She'd known then, her body burning from his touch, sore and aching and hurt.

But...

Aoshi had given her his seed.

Why? Why when her body was still painfully stretched around him, could she think like that? _Given her... _Why was it a good thing when it had caused her so much... discomfort ?

Wasn't it... _forced_ in her?

No... No... Not forced. She had pushed the thought away desperately, clenching her eyes closed.

_She hissed when he drew back. More burning pain, but it was almost a numbness now. So much friction inside. She could feel the wetness... his ... hers... _

_ His eyes met hers again, when had he looked away? She couldn't remember. _

_ His eyes still burned with emptiness. Dark voids... He leaned down, pressing his mouth to hers. _

_ The kiss was soft only a moment, before his head slanted against hers and she gasped in surprise at the sudden, violent pressure. His tongue plundered her mouth as he silently demanded she respond to him, not letting up upon her until she did... Hesitantly, she returned the abusive kiss. _

_ His touched didn't turn gentle even then. He had sat up, dragging her up with him, fisting a hand deep in her hair while he assaulted her mouth with vigor. _

_ She had groaned against his lips and he released her then. She crumped to the ground, her hips still raised, legs still pulled over his lap. _

_ His eyes darted over her quickly and then slowly, they worked their way up. _

_ Slowly, he drew away, fixing his clothes and standing. He towered over her, eyes staring down at her impassively. _

_ No words. _

_ There was nothing in those eyes. No regret. No compassion. No hunger. No sadness. _

_ Just emptiness. _

_ He'd left her there, sprawled upon the ground. She hadn't cried. Couldn't, maybe she was just unable. _

_ The numbness that was settling over her quickly was far more welcome than the friction pain. _

What an afternoon that had been. She pulled herself to her feet and walked back to her room, sliding inside. She needed someone with a giant feather fan, she thought, retreating to her futon.

She trembled, trying to shake off the remnants of her desire. She closed her eyes.

Tomorrow was another day. She'd deal with it all then.

* * *

Author's Notes: Aoshi was probably more than a bit OOC because of his violence displayed toward Misao. Even when he was "on the dark side" he never wanted to see Misao hurt and I'm certain he would never do anything like this to her. But it was fun though, wasn't it?

Are there more chapters? Oh yes, there are. I will post them later... eventually. If you'd like to read the original chapter in all its lemony glory please see my **profile **for the address. If you think this story needs_ **further censoring** _please tell me and I will comply.


	2. Chapter 2

In Err, My Suffering

Part II

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It was impossible to judge when night ended and morning began. At least, it was to her. 

Her skin was hot and sticky and icky feeling. She wanted a bath - but was soberly reminded by her memory she'd end up feeling like this at the end of the day all over again. Sweating and being unable to sleep was the worst part of summer.

She sat up, pulling on a light colored yukata, unable to bear even the thought of wearing her dark uniformed outfit. She'd sweat to death in that thing, she thought, shoving her door open.

One sullen glance down the hall told her Aoshi was already gone. Even though she couldn't really confirm that, she suspected it. It was, really, almost guaranteed by the consistency of his behavior.

Between his "away" missions for Okina and "meditating", she really didn't see him much. Aoshi did a lot of _information _work. Since Okina handled the information network, she wasn't sure what that "work" entailed exactly and she hadn't been motivated enough in this weather to find out.

She suspected his "away" work kept him there less often than he was actually gone. His avoidance of her was annoying, and worse than that the others had completely mistook the reasons he had taken to doing so.

They had, somehow, gotten the impression Aoshi was annoyed with her "hanging around him" all the time.

Which wasn't even true, really. She didn't hang around him _that_ much.

She headed for the stairs, slowing when she heard Okina's voice.

_"She's a nice girl, Aoshi. You should consider it."_

_"How do you expect me to support a wife?" _

Misao gaped. Okina was suggesting Aoshi marry? So suddenly? So blatantly? Absolutely not! Not while _she _was around.

_"You're getting older - surely you've thought about it. Wouldn't you like to have a family? It would be easier to get Misao to think of marriage if she had an example to follow."_

Misao seethed from where she stood, eavesdropping.

_"I am not at liberty to make such decisions now," Aoshi replied sedately._

_"Eh?" _

Damn right he wasn't, Misao thought. If anyone decided whether or not Aoshi got married it would be _her. _She _owned _him!

Well, maybe she didn't, she thought huffily. But she should.

She decided right there if he got married to someone else she'd never forgive him. Not even begging on his death bed!

Well, maybe that was too far. She couldn't deny Aoshi a deathbed wish.

Ah, no! No dying-Aoshi thoughts, she scolded herself.

She continued down the stairs just as Aoshi walked out. He paused to glance down at her before turning and heading up the stairs. She glanced back at him and then in at Okina, blinking innocently.

"Ah, Misao come on in here," Okina called out to her.

She stepped in feeling weary and hoping it didn't show on her face. She sat down in front of Okina's table, finding the place where she sat warm. She smiled at sitting where Aoshi had been.

"Have you given any consideration to starting a family?" he asked, sipping some morning tea.

"Don't guys start families?" she asked, putting off the question momentarily. "And no, not unless it involves Aoshi-sama," she chirped happily.

Of course she'd thought about it. A million times. She'd worried for weeks about pregnancy - until, of course, her period returned. Although she'd heard from Okon some women still bled while pregnant, either way, she hadn't conceived.

Unfortunately.

Wasn't that almost a sure way to get Aoshi to be hers permanently?

The thought of trapping Aoshi in marriage by pregnancy didn't sit well with her though. She wanted him fair and square.

Okina sighed, clearly disappointed.

He looked so seriously discontent, Misao began to worry. "Why do you want me to get married so much? I'm not an old maid yet."

"I am an old man, Misao; I'm not getting any younger. I want to know you are in the hands of someone who will take care of you when I'm gone. My only family is those of the Aoiya and you are the only child I ever had. I do not want you to regret anything. Or Aoshi."

"You want Aoshi to have a family?" she asked.

"I know you don't like the possibility of seeing him with someone else. Don't you want what is best for him?"

She sat forward glaring. "Are you saying someone _else_ is better for Aoshi?" she asked, not noticing the informality.

Okina sat back slightly. "Be reasonable," he urged.

Misao pouted and stood. "I'm going to help in the kitchen."

She heard him sigh once more as she walked off. The moment she stepped inside Omasu handed her a list and a pouch of money and pushed her straight back out. Misao blinked as the door was snapped closed in her face.

"Must be busy..." she mumbled, turning to walk toward the front door. Omasu was especially pushy when it was busy.

What a depressing day.

How could Okina even consider the possibility that someone else could be better for Aoshi than her?

Sure, she wasn't sure how to feel about him right now, but that didn't mean she didn't want him.

She did.

She damn sure didn't want anyone else having him.

"Misao."

She jumped at the suddenness of the voice from the tall man who had sneaked up to walk beside her.

"Ah, don't do that, Aoshi-sama," she paused. "Why are you out?"

She didn't see any bag on his shoulder - so... He wasn't leaving town at least. It was always painfully easy to tell when he was leaving town.

"You heard Okina this morning..."

He didn't phrase it like a question; he must have known she was there. She smiled, that was good old, Aoshi-sama.

"About that..." he started, only to trail off. She couldn't remember him being short of words before.

So she waited.

"It is not my intention to marry anyone else."

She stopped, glancing up at him. "Damn right."

She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. _Bad girl, Misao!_ She scolded.

He didn't respond to the comment.

"Do you need me to accompany you?"

She blinked. "For what?"

He motioned toward her list.

"Oh, no, I got this."

Did she want him to go? Sure, she'd never tell him not to, but she didn't want him coming because he felt obligated. She wasn't a little girl and she could do without an escort. If it came down to it, she could handle herself. That's what she did all that time he was gone, after all.

He nodded. "I'm going to the temple. Don't be gone too long."

She watched him go, sighing softly. What was best for him, huh?

Did anyone really know what was best for him?

* * *

Aoshi stared at the wall, all hope at achieving some semblance of inner peace from meditation today, long gone. Days at the temple lately had that effect on him, leaving his mind to wander while he struggled to focus himself. 

Even now he worried about her walking out there along the crowded streets alone.

What if some goon pulled her into an alley and molested her?

What if she got herself into a fight she couldn't handle with that mouth of hers? That beautiful, perfect little mouth...

He sighed inaudibly and stood. It had only been an hour. She probably wasn't downtown at all; she was probably back, safe, at the Aoiya with Okina. But he couldn't know that for certain.

Thoughts of the previous night caused him to wonder if he should kiss any thoughts he had of peace goodbye forever.

Especially after she'd told him she thought about it.

About wanting it.

About wanting _him._

She wanted him, and deep down, he'd known she had. She still did.

Because, he knew, she loved him.

Misao loved him.

He wanted, _needed _frantically, for her to continue to love him. He'd do anything to keep her. Anything to ensure she still loved him and loved him always.

Maybe he was obsessed…

He didn't care.

He stood, hoping to leave his tumultuous thoughts behind, but knowing he would be dragging them back with him. He always did. He headed down the pathway, eyes scanning for her, but seeing nothing.

His path was straight ahead, nothing between him and the Aoiya except the street crowds that he navigated through deftly. Okina was out front, sweeping the entrance. The old man spared him a glance as he approached.

"Is Misao here?"

"She was," Okina replied, stilling the motion of the broom. "But she muttered something about chocolate and then off she went in search of sweets."

"Aa," Aoshi replied shortly and stepped in. He avoided the customers, instead moving straight to the back, up the stairs and straight to her door.

He told himself he was going to regret this as he reached for the panel to slide it open.

It didn't stop him.

He pulled the door open and stepped inside, boldly invading her territory and loving every exhilarating second. He pulled it closed behind him, inhaling the lingering scent of her in the room.

He could recall the taste of her on his lips, mind full of nothing but her and having her and just outright ravishing her.

He walked to her window and sat down, placing his back against the wall. He would just have to wait.

For Misao, he'd wait forever.

* * *

"That was not funny!" Misao shouted down the stairs, stomping childishly to her room. "Damn idiots!" 

She tore the door open and stepped inside, her anger evaporating in one fell swoop at the sight that met her within.

"Aoshi-sama?"

He turned his eyes upwards. "Misao," he acknowledged.

She stared at him a moment and then frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he replied.

She swallowed dryly. "Um..." She looked at the door behind her, shifting. "What brings you to my room?"

His answer was silence and she stepped in closer when he showed no signs of moving from where he sat, cross-legged beneath her window.

"We should talk about it," he stated.

"Talk about it? It? Do you mean what I think you mean when you say 'it' or is it another 'it' we're talking about?" she asked, crossing her arms, eyes darting across her bare floor.

Where should she sit?

"The afternoon we spent together."

That was a mild description of it, wasn't it? She thought wryly. "Oh," she paused and decided to stand a little closer. She didn't want to stand too close, she might be tempted to touch him or something and that would be bad.

"I'm sorry." His voice was so solemn.

She looked down from the window where she'd been staring out. "I'm not."

"Misao-" His eyes took on an expression she couldn't recognize, but it sounded like a warning in his voice. A 'stop- stay back' kind of tone.

"I don't want to hear that. I don't want you to be sorry for that," she continued, saying what she wanted, regardless of what he wanted to hear.

"... What do you want?"

"Huh?" Surely, she hadn't heard him right. Surely, he, Aoshi: the taker, wasn't asking her, Misao: the giver, what _she_ wanted.

"What do you want?" he repeated, his voice barely exceeding a whisper. "What do you want from me?" His eyes were intense, trained solely on her.

"I'd say I just wanted you, but you've been giving me iffy looks lately." She smiled. "And I think you'd take it the wrong way. Well, you know what I mean."

"What would it take?" _To get you?_

Her eyebrows rose. "I don't know."

The answer seemed to disappoint him. She walked toward him and kneeled down in front of him. He unfolded his legs and allowed her to scoot closer - between his spread knees.

The floor beneath her knees was hard and already bothering her kneecaps, but she remained kneeling all the same.

"I don't know what I want from you, but it isn't something I can ask for." She tilted her head contemplatively. "If that makes any sense... Wait, maybe I can say it better..."

"There's no need."

"Hmm?" She refocused her gaze on his, noting the intensity of his eyes had increased.

"I know what you want," he said, his voice soft.

She frowned at him; feeling slightly miffed at his all-knowing attitude and crossed her arms.

"I don't think it's best for you... But I will agree to it."

"No! No, you won't! Not until you tell -**me**- what it is!" she demanded, feeling even more anxious at this somber-toned conversation.

She did not like somber. Not at all.

This whole dialogue had a reluctant and sad kind of feel suddenly and she wasn't about to let him decide on something major and give her cryptic half answers. Not happening.

She shook her head. "No way..."

"If it's me you want, I agree. I'll marry you."

Her unhappy expression only intensified. He said it like he was so damn happy. It felt more like he was compensating a rowdy child just to get her to shut up.

No way, she wasn't about to accept that.

"What makes you think that's what I want?" she asked the edge in her voice sharp.

"Marrying me wouldn't give me what I want - I'm young, but old enough to have realized **that**." She narrowed her eyes. "It won't make you stay here; it won't convince me that I'll always be able to make sure you're safe and not wandering around killing yourself slowly somewhere."

"There's nothing you can do," she answered.

"Nothing?" He barely breathed the word, his very voice a strained torture in her ears. His eyes almost seemed to shimmer with disappointment at her answer, but maybe she was being hopeful and seeing things that weren't there.

She leaned forward, shifting her weight on her knees, a small smile on her lips as she shook her head negatively. She gently touched her nose to his.

"Not even my word is good enough?" he murmured, a soft tone not strong enough to travel outside of their little circle, not even to be picked up by Oniwabanshuu ears.

"Is it?" she countered. "Or is it just good enough until something threatening comes along and you decide to make more life-changing decisions without telling me?"

He seemed to pick up on the fact, without her explicit mention, that she was referring to his leaving her at the Aoiya _the first time. _

"Overlooking the fact the last time I left you, you were a child," he countered with a sharpness that made her slightly uneasy.

She'd hadn't dealt with a hostile Aoshi since she had been scolded by him as a kid, and only after she'd done something that had proven to be dangerous to her person and scared him.

"Isn't there some kind of saying about a person doing once and then being likely to do it again?" she asked flippantly, not noticing when his gaze shifted from minor irritation to deepest depths of displeasure.

She sensed his movement, despite her own quickness; she wasn't able to escape as his arms suddenly encircled her, dragging her across the tiny space still separating them.

"You would doubt me?" he leaned forward to nuzzle against her, pressing his mouth against the collar of her day yukata before sliding down, pushing her back slightly giving him room to lean forward.

He snagged the tie on the back of her robe and pulled. The fabric tie slid against itself and unwound and the fabric loosed.

He dropped his eyes down, his fingers tightening in the material pulling it farther open. Her skin was pale and white.

And there was nothing underneath but skin, pure white, milky colored skin.

He feasted on her, his eyes drifting from the column of her neck to the small dip of her navel. A thin wisp of material covered her from just below her navel to her mid-knee, protecting the last vestige of her modesty. He groaned at the sight of her.

Her gasp met his ears, but didn't slow his movement. He pulled her back to him, his hands tightening at her back, pulling the material across her torso tight. He turned his face up, seeking her mouth.

He pulled her lips to his, seeking resistance or compliance, but seeking something. He kissed her hard, sparing no quarter for gentleness. His hands tightened again and the fabric slipped, sliding off her shoulders and falling down her back to gather over his hands. He pulled it, taking her wrists back with it, causing her to lean back sharply, mouth open in a gasp.

He pulled the material, tying it awkwardly, but enough to keep her bound. Her face contorted into one of protest. He pulled, sliding her forward against him once more, and again, took her mouth.

"Aoshi-mmph!" Her protest met his lips and died. He kissed her possessively, probing, touching, and seeking territory to claim like a rabid conqueror.

But she was his already.

He just needed to convince **her **of it.

Just a little more...

Always a little more...

His mouth moved lower, his tongue laving over her collar bone, sliding, sucking, enjoying the salty flavor of her.

"Aoshi...sama..." She gasped.

Momentarily, he wondered if the others could hear.

Momentarily, he worried.

Momentarily, he reconsidered... and then he decided.

He was going to have her, damn whatever anyone else thought. He wanted to hear his lover's voice raised because of him.

Glazed and passion tinted, she was beautiful.

She tried to speak, her voice breaking on his name.

"Misao..."

He drew his legs in, folding them in his meditation style sitting her on him. As much as he wanted to push forward, to slide into her and abandon all need of any further consent than what he already had, he couldn't.

"Yes or no?"

He felt the faint tremble of her body, but made no move to release her bound hands or to penetrate her, the latter of which was almost making _him_ tremble.

"...shi-sama..."

It was all the answer he cared to wait for. He was lost. Reality broke and shattered around him, the scent of pine and forest filled his head, swimming about him and the soft feel of her hips against his palms was all he registered.

* * *

"Aoshi-sama..." 

Her voice flitted through his ears and his eyes snapped open. Misao's breath was hot against his shoulder and her body was awkwardly situated in his lap, with her clothes binding her wrists behind her.

What had he just done?

* * *

AN:That last scene really got chopped upfor posting here, I hope even _that_ doesn't exceed guidelines. It shouldn't. 

This version was **HEAVILY CENSORED**, you may read the full NC-17 version at my website. Please see my profile.


	3. Chapter 3

**In Err, My Suffering**

**Part III**

* * *

Misao stared at the ceiling. The floor had been cold against her back at first, but it had warmed as she laid there.

He was gone.

Aoshi.

He had left almost ten minutes ago. She hadn't moved since.

Her body was both satisfied and aching all at the same time. The tiny space between her legs was wet and tender. She rubbed her thighs together, not sure if she liked the slick, sliding feeling or if it just made her feel dirty.

She heaved a heavy sigh and sat up, still feeling his hands on her hips, moving underneath her, inside her.

She smiled lazily.

But he'd left.

He'd pressed kisses along every inch of her skin he could reach and then quietly left her.

He hadn't said two words to her, just gone.

Shinomori Aoshi, the man she loved.

Shinomori Aoshi, the man with a head full of rocks, she though dismally. She wanted to curse him and smack him a good one, but of course she wouldn't. He probably deserved it. Even so, she got the kind of feeling from him that maybe he simply didn't know what to do. Aoshi always felt to her like he was stumbling along blind and she couldn't bring herself to hold him accountable for that. It was always felt to her that he was doing the best he knew how, worrying and doubting and blaming himself along the way.

She sat up and absently pulled on her robe. The hall was quiet, it was still early evening, there hadn't even been dinner yet. With a frown and a head full of jumbled Aoshi thoughts, she headed for the bath house. She wasn't even halfway to the stairs before an arm shot of the dark and yanked her into a side room. She yelped, trying to yank her arm back from her would-be snatcher. Or, maybe he was a snatcher, he had pulled her into the room successfully.

She expected to see Aoshi.

He didn't disappoint, there he was. Hand _still _wrapped around her arm.

"Could you let go?" she asked, feeling a bit uncertain about seeing him so soon.

His room was dark with only moonlight shining through the open window. Despite the low light, she could see the expression on his face well enough to know something was about to happen.

Something she wasn't necessarily guaranteed to like.

"Misao..."

If he said one word about being guilty or what they did was wrong, she'd slap him silly.

"Don't say anything," she warned.

He stepped back from her. "I cannot say _nothing_."

"Okay, fine. Go ahead, but I just _know_ you're going to say something stupid and make me angry." She crossed her arms and waited, feeling a little bit childish, like she was waiting for a scolding she knew was inevitable.

He turned his back to her and after a few moments he turned to face her once more. Silence stretched long and tight and ended in Misao's patience snapping. She cleared her throat.

"Can we do this tomorrow?"

He didn't say anything.

"Cause... um... no offense or anything," she felt her discomfort grow. "I kinda want a bath."

She opened her mouth to tell him why, but then, of course, he already _knew _so...

"Tomorrow then," he said and his voice crisp and... dismissing.

She let it go, too eager to get away.

* * *

_The wind blew slightly, fluttering, rustling. He stood so straight, tall and proud. He was more beautiful than she remembered. Far more beautiful._

_This man who had b__een her guardian..._

_Why?_

_Why couldn't some brotherly, fatherly feelings well up in her? Why couldn't she feel for him the way she was feeling for the others at the Aoiya? Why couldn't she regard him like she did Shiro or Kuro?_

_Why?_

_He turned, his body perfectly fine tuned for battle. His eyes were dark, a deep pitch, a pit, a coal black night... A shudder took hold of her shoulders and swept down her spine._

_"Aoshi-sama?"_

_Her voice was a whisper, a plea on the wind, but he only stared at her impassively. The eyes of one far-away or disengaged. She meant nothing, she thought, staring into those eyes. The tremble shook her body harder as he moved, the foreign coat shifting around his frame elegantly. His movements were smooth and his body sleek as he glided toward her. She couldn't see an ounce of blood upon his person, not one speck._

_Had the battle with Okina meant so little?_

_Had he become so adept at slaughtering people that he could avoid the spray of blood?_

_She swallowed hard as he neared, one step and then another. He raised a hand and she felt the rough pads of his fingertips against her face. The trembling wouldn't stop. She stared, their eyes meeting, blue... just blue._

_From the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of silver. Her mouth fell open as it pierced through her, shiny metal dulled with the sheen of blood through her chest._

_She choked staring at the piece of kodachi poking out the material of her uniform._

_She looked up, her eyes meeting his... Those dark pools._

_The pools that promised death._

_"Ao..shi... saama..." she mouthed the words, but her voice was already dead. She never felt the ground as she impacted with it._

Misao woke, jolted awake, her breath choppy. She sat up shakily, not quite able to stop the quivering of her limbs or the pounding of her heart. Numbly, she slipped from her room. Another midnight stroll, another walk alone, another night peering into the darkness and seeing only Aoshi's eyes.

The eyes that held death, the eyes of one who's soul was being eaten alive, corrupted, stained, tainted..

She heard movement in the kitchen and headed in that direction. She stood in the doorway and watched as Aoshi moved around. She would've expected tea, but it wasn't, just a little plate of pastries. Was he hungry at this hour?

She stepped into the room and he showed no signs of having seen her. When she sat at the table with him he just pushed the plate toward her in offering. She accepted and nibbled on a piece of sweet cake as she stared at him.

His eyes were clear and colored, not darkened with death. He looked like the man who appeared in her early memories, albeit older.  
She opened her mouth to speak and trailed off. "A-"

He didn't look up. "What?" The tone was soft, low, but held sort of a gruffness to it at the same time.

"Would you... let me do something?"

At that, he did look up.

"Do something?"

She nodded. "I want..." she trailed off, feeling awkward.

He didn't press, he waited.

"I want to... Can... I'm not sure how to say it."

"Direct is best," he advised, still staring at her.

He looked tired, she noted. Like he hadn't slept enough the previous few nights.

"Can I touch you?"

He didn't look surprised, but he didn't immediately answer. After several strained moments of silence, he did.

"Touch me, how?"

She frowned. "Like... Well... not like _that_..." she blushed slightly. "I mean... You never let me touch you. Just normally."

He raised his eyes again, she couldn't remember them moving away, but she hadn't been staring at him directly.

He reached and touched the same calloused fingertips from the dream to her face and she trembled. She couldn't stop the trembling. The movement was soft, a faint touch, a gentle circling with the pads of his fingers. But then he stood up and stared down at her.

His eyes weren't dark - they were clear, but burdened. Weighed with guilt and sadness...

"You're afraid of me, Misao."

The tone was soft, mournful. He didn't take anything off the plate, he just turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

AN: I _will _finish this. So I thought I ought to post part of it. It ends at chapter 5, if you were curious. 


	4. Chapter 4

In Err, My Suffering

Part IV

* * *

Nothing had mattered except her, having her, convincing her...

Only, he hadn't convinced her.

Misao clearly wasn't ready and he didn't know what "ready" was. What were they getting ready for?

It wasn't sex, last night had proven that.

It had to be more than that.

Commitment? Marriage? Children? What?

He had the nagging feeling it had a lot more to do with leaving the past where it lay and moving forward toward commitment and marriage and children. He wondered if Misao knew that.

So he'd made his decision.

The only problem was he knew Misao had not made _her_ decision and hers was all that mattered.

Morning was still several hours off and Misao had not shifted or made any indications that she was having bad dreams. He had contemplated leaving, but ultimately found himself unable to pull himself away. He regarded it as his personal weakness that he was unable to leave her side that he couldn't deny himself the painful pleasure of lying beside her.

He was a weak man.

Broken by a woman.

And he couldn't change it.

He didn't even want to, a sure sign of complete defeat.

He switched positions, laying on his back and she curled herself around him in her sleep. He sighed.

There would be no peace, no sweet lassitude of sleep for him this night. Perhaps any night, if she ever asked him to do this again.

Gently prying himself away from her, he sat up and shrugged his yukata off his shoulders. He had worn nothing beneath the thin garment, it was simply too warm. He was hesitant to remove it with Misao in the bed beside him. He would be far too tempted to wake her and...

"Aoshi-sama?"

She sounded sleepy and he glanced toward her. It was too dark to see her face, only the general silhouette of her.

She sat up and laid her head against his arm.

"Can't sleep?"

She sounded so young. Reminders of Misao age always made him feel like he was shaming himself and her by thinking the way he did of her.

It made his lust for her a guilty pleasure.

"No," he replied.

The heat didn't help, but it wasn't the warmth of the environment that was keeping him awake. It was Misao next to him that was keeping him from sleep. Memories, thoughts, desires...

Of past, of present...

In this room, on this floor, in this bed... he'd had her here.

He wanted her again.

A thin sheen of sweat covered his body and the more he thought, the worse his situation got. It had only begun as a way to keep himself occupied, thinking about other things. He couldn't very well turn off his thoughts.

Somehow his thoughts had morphed into that afternoon in the forest, but had quickly turned into a vision of her in his lap, of his hands on her hips, guiding her as she rode him.

It was intensely erotic and the feelings had caused him no short amount of aggravating grief. He'd gone back and forth between irritation at his weakness and pulse pounding desire. It wasn't any better really that he'd sat there for at least an hour contemplating how good it would feel to touch himself when she was laying there right next to him.

It felt wrong and illicit and... good.

But in the end, he hadn't.

"Too warm?"

Her voice brought him back and he glanced down at her dark form at his side. Too warm was certainly one way to describe it, wasn't it?

But Misao was afraid of him. That he knew. He'd seen her tremble and shy away just slightly. He knew not what her dreams were about, but he knew enough that they were of him.

He hadn't been gentle with her when they had joined in the forest. It was that memory, perhaps more than the one they had recently made that stuck with him so vividly.

He hadn't been exactly gentle with her in this room the last time, had he?

No…

"Aoshi-sama…?"

He glanced back at her.

"Did you sleep at all tonight?"

Could she tell? Even in the dark?

"Not much," he admitted, feeling the need to be truthful.

He couldn't lie to her without feeling guilty and he wanted no more guilt with Misao.

"Can't relax? Too hot? Do you have enough room?" she sounded young and innocent and it made him feel like a heel that he was thinking about slipping her yukata off and …

He cleared his throat and hurriedly looked away. She had pulled her yukata back over her shoulder from where he'd tugged it off.

"Aa," he answered to none specifically, hoping the answer would quiet her.

Even sounding young she sounded appealing and he didn't like what it was doing to his body. No, he took that back, he did like what it was doing to him, but it was wrong and had to stop.

He was indulging himself too much.

"Can I touch you, Aoshi-sama?"

She'd asked this before and he'd obliged. He wanted her to touch him, to be unafraid, to feel… _safe_. Misao should never feel unsafe with him. She was the most precious thing in the world to him.

He laid back down and closed his eyes. When she moved he stayed still, but when he felt her body moving over his, the inside of her knee on the other side of his waist, his eyes flew open, startled.

She settled, sitting over his hips. He pulsed beneath her and he could only wonder what she thought of him pressed against her. He could feel the heat of her seeping through his clothes. He knew she had to feel him, but she made no indication of it. Her expression was hidden in darkness.

"Can I touch you all over, Aoshi-sama?"

His throat tightened and he grunted and he let her take the answer any way she would. It didn't seem to discourage her, however, as she laid her hands against his chest. She pressed her palms against him; he could feel the sweat between her palms and his skin. He dropped his head back further, lifting his chin, turning his eyes away from her silhouette atop him.

She slid her hands, higher and higher, over the planes of his chest, clawing one nail over a long scar before moving up and up. She curled her fingers against his neck, her pulse pounding against her finger tips. She leaned forward, shifting her weight against his entrapped erection, pressing down causing him to gasp.

She pressed her fingers downward to grate her fingers against his skin, down his chest to his stomach, not gouging, not scratching, but feeling. As though she wanted to feel the texture of his body against her nails.

She leaned forward even more, and her body slid down. He stared up, the ceiling was a dark blur. He felt her breath before he felt her lips, soft and wet against the center of his chest.

She turned her head then and laid her cheek against him. "I missed you, Aoshi-sama."

How could she speak and think so sweetly like this? Didn't desire course through her as it did him? Didn't it feel the same for her? Didn't she want him inside her?

What did she want?

She lifted her head a moment later and sat up. He thought it was over, she was moving away, but instead of off and beside him, she moved down. She straddled his thighs as her slender fingers slipped beneath the thin tie of his sash. He lifted himself slightly and pulled it loose. She didn't react that he could tell, but he pictured her smiling at him.

He couldn't see if she was.

She managed to get it open and he could see enough of her to realize she had pulled it around her neck. His attention fell away from her when he felt her shy fingers pulling his robe open slowly, hesitantly. But she could see no better than him in this darkness, not even a ninja's eyes were good enough to see through darkness such as this…

"Misao!" he barked, his voice rough, strained.

"Should I stop?" she asked, her voice soft, as though she were embarrassed.

"No, don't… Don't stop."

He reached for her hips, but she caught his wrists with a quickness that made him realize how sluggish he really felt.

"Ah, ah!" she chided. "I want to touch you, Aoshi-sama. Let me do the touching. Your hands are too rough."

His hands were too rough? What did that mean? He decided he didn't care immediately what that meant when she shifted her hips slightly, dragging herself against him.

He trembled beneath her, his fingers digging into the linens beneath him as he fought not to grab her and...

She dragged herself against him again, downward.

He bit his lip hard trying not to catch his tongue between his teeth. How could she - he groaned as she began to move slow, up and down, dragging, a slow, grinding movement.

How could she tease him this way?

Didn't she crave him as he so badly did her?

This pleased her?

She stopped, her body shuddering against his and he groaned in disappointment.

"Misao…"

"Don't move Aoshi-sama..." she murmured softly.

She began to rock her hips against him once more and he groaned at her slow, teasing touches.

Her eyes drifted closed as she moved against him, his hips rising up beneath her, grinding himself against her as much as he could.

As her body slid higher, against the sensitive head of his arousal, his hands shot up from the linen and to her waist. She gasped, startled as he forced her down against him hard, their bodies mashing together.

He jerked her body against his roughly, their bodies jarring together hard until he groaned sharply and twitched.

Misao leaned down, tracing her fingers up his chest, surprised at sticky residue she found there. She slid her fingers through it curiously.

"Aoshi-sama," she began, pinching her fingers together. "What is this?"

He sighed.

* * *

Dawn escaped Aoshi. He woke in Misao's bed, his head a mess. She was curled up beside him sleeping peacefully, oblivious of his presence.

Misao had bad dreams about him, that he knew. She'd admitted so the previous night and she'd mentioned it to him before. He did not know what to do about bad dreams.

As far as he knew, there was no way to be rid of them. He'd been plagued with dreams of some sort for most of his adult life and never escaped them until something worse came along.

The only good dreams he ever had were dreams of his past at the Aoiya, when Misao was a child. He no longer knew how to feel about that. How he felt about knowing her as such a small girl.

Was he betraying the Okashira previous to himself? Misao's grandfather? Was he betraying that man's wishes for Misao, to care for her?

He felt as though he was and he wasn't.

His dalliances with Misao were shameful. They cast badly on both of them, but it was Misao who would bear the brunt of the guilt were they ever publicly exposed. If she became pregnant and was not married...

It would be his fault.

Quietly, he left her there, curled up in her bed.

He wasn't sorry to go. His ability to think clearly when beside her greatly diminished. He felt drunk around her at times, simply willing to concede to whatever she wanted as long as it was harmless.

He was a broken man.

He'd been a broken man from the first time he'd touched her. From the first time he'd pushed inside her in the forest.

That would forever be their moment of history stood still.

It would always be his, at least.

He returned to his room where he cleaned himself up and dressed for the day. Down the stairs and halfway to the door, he was stopped.

"Aoshi?"

He froze near the doorway, but didn't turn back. "Aa?"

He recognized Okina's voice and the distinct pitch of his disapproval. He was in trouble...

He hadn't been in trouble in ages.

He turned back and entered Okina's little study off the corridor and the old man followed.

The older man didn't sit but stared at him with a deep frown upon his face.

"Aoshi, it has come to my attention that you and Misao seem to be sharing a room?"

"No, we are not."

Okina raised a brow. "Do you deny then that you are having physical relations with her?"

"No."

His frown deepened. "It is inappropriate behavior and I will not willfully tolerate it. If you wish to be intimate with her, you must marry her."

Aoshi nodded. "Aa. Is that all?"

Okina blinked. "That's it? Do you intend to wed her?"

Aoshi turned toward the doorway. "Misao declined."

* * *

Misao woke to an empty room. She would've worried had he stayed and cuddled with her, but it was disappointing. She hadn't so much as decided on breakfast, let alone what to do with her day when Okina appeared before her, smiling.

"Good morning, precious. Sleep well?"

She frowned and sat down. Was he eluding to something?

"Same I guess," she answered.

She hadn't had any bad dreams, that was a plus. Her hips were slightly bruised from Aoshi grabbing her, that was a minus. The man needed restraints...

"We need to speak, Misao."

She nodded numbly. "I had nothing to do with whatever you found."

"No, no," he bristled. "This isn't about one of your practical jokes. I'm concerned about you and Aoshi."

Her head snapped up. "Me and Aoshi?" she repeated.

He nodded and sat down across from her. "Did he offer marriage to you?"

She thought. He had... sort of, hadn't he? Well, he hadn't made it sound like an offer of marriage, he was offering concessions and she didn't want those.

"Not really and sort of, why?"

"Did you truly say no? Is that not what you desired?"

She sighed. "It's not that easy, Jiya."

He stood, a glower upon his face. "Very well, but I expect the two of you to conduct yourselves like responsible adults. No more relations, do I make myself clear?"

She felt her face flush and she nodded, too embarrassed to say anything.

He walked off and she dry swallowed.

* * *

AN: I didn't post this before? 


	5. Chapter 5

**In Err, My Suffering **

**Part V of V  
**

* * *

Deciding what to do about it was one matter and actually doing it was another, she discovered.

Aoshi-sama was at the Temple, where he'd been all morning, and she was at the Aoiya worrying about it.

If she was going to go talk to him, how would it end up? Would they end up getting intimate again? Jiya had said they couldn't... but it wasn't as if the old man could stop them.

She wasn't especially unhappy about it though. She assumed that Aoshi-sama had gotten the same warning as her. But if she was going to do something casual with him, as suggested, what should it be?

Lunch, maybe?

Well, it didn't sound completely off the wall. As long as he agreed. What if he looked at her like her face had turned green? But then... why would he? Lunch was normal.

She decided it was all about the delivery. She just needed _to be_ casual. She stood up and headed out. The Temple was relatively close and Misao was grateful for the fresh air...

Or she would have been were it not stagnant outside. She was sweating by the time she reached the Temple. He was not sitting in the middle of the floor in his meditating position as she expected, but on the front steps, watching her approach.

It was early afternoon. Today was the day. She as going to invite Aoshi to lunch with her in a nice, casual place. A restaurant! The Shirobeko was perfect. It was perfectly mainly because it _wasn't_ the Aoiya.

She didn't want Okina to see her with Aoshi.

"Hello, Aoshi-sama." She smiled and laced her fingers together behind her back as she tried not to fidget. "How about lunch?"

For a moment, he merely stared at her as though contemplating where she was hiding lunch on her person.

"Lunch?"

She nodded. "Right. I thought maybe you would like a break from routine? A trip to the Shirobeko would be fun, besides have you been there since you came back?"

"No, I have not," he replied sedately.

She could see the sheen of perspiration on his face, his forehead, and temples. "How about we go then?" she asked, her voice uplifted with a false note of cheerfulness. Her face had that stretched feeling one developed when their smile was fake.

He stood up and she felt her hopes rise just a tad. "I decline, thank you."

_"Hello!" _

_"Good afternoon!" _

Misao turned to see Omasu and Okon coming toward them, bundles in their arms.

"Misao! Excellent! I was looking for you." Okon pulled her aside and then _outside_ the temple and asked her to do her a favor. The plan was transparent, the two women wanted to get rid of her and being stung by Aoshi's rejection, she just wanted to go.

So she did.

She barely heard Okon's "favor" she suspected it really didn't matter anyway.

Aoshi watched as Okon stepped back in and noticed that Misao was not with her. The two women looked at him almost predatorily.

"So, Aoshi-sama, we'd like to have a little chat. We even brought lunch."

They smiled but he sensed the afternoon would be far from pleasant. He wondered, briefly, where Misao had disappeared to and if it was his response to her invitation or Okon's interference that had somehow sent her away.

He sat himself back down and frowned but said nothing. He didn't imagine a tsunami would keep those two from whatever mission they'd taken upon themselves.

They sat down and began unpacking food. He saw them cast a few glances at one another as if they were unsure who should begin talking first. It was Okon who took up the reigns and faced him.

"We want to know what your intentions are for Misao," she stated bluntly.

"That's right. She's… very confused right now. We want to know if you proposed to her and she said no."

He paused thinking. Had he proposed? He supposed he had in a sort of way, it had been an offer.

"She told me that I couldn't decide what she wanted and that my offer of marriage wouldn't give her what she wanted."

The women both nodded and he thought they looked very strangely proud. Had they been coaching her or something?

"And what does she want?" Omasu prompted.

He hesitated again. Did he want to discuss this with them? No, but was he getting anywhere on his own?

Equally, no.

"She doesn't want me to leave," he answered. It was the most immediate thing to come to mind.

"Is that it?" Okon asked. "What do you want from her?"

He narrowed his eyes at Okon. "Nothing. I just want her."

"Have you told her that?"

"No," he turned his gaze to the floor. "I cannot."

"Well, why not?" Omasu asked.

"I can honor her requests of me, but I am not worthy enough to make my own of her."

He missed the glance between the two women. "Is that because of your leaving her? Or because of the fight with Okina? Or because of whatever happened _after_ the fight with Okina?"

He gasped and it sounded like a hiss. "She told you of that?"

"Not until _very_ recently." They both frowned at him. "She was too busy defending you and your state of mind to really tell us anything. She changed the topic. Did you hurt her then?"

"I always hurt her. I do nothing else," he replied acidly.

"Then _maybe_ you ought to stop!" Okon growled, her voice rising. "Tell her! Go up to her and say, 'I want to marry you Misao.' That would be good enough for her! She doesn't expect flowers and romance from you, she'll take anything from you, absolutely **anything** and you give her _nothing!" _

"Misao has lived on a lot of things, mostly hope. For a long time though she's been different and we haven't been sure why… but the other night when she alluded to you being intimate _so long ago…_ we understood one thing perfectly. She doesn't live in hope anymore, now she just lives in confusion and doubt and its all because of you, and it always is," Omasu spoke sedately, her voice and gaze steady.

"I tried," he answered. "I offered her marriage, she turned me away."

"No," Okon interjected. "She didn't turn you away! LISTEN to me! Misao said no because she thinks you're only offering out of some misguided idea of what you think she wants. She doesn't trust what she thinks you want from her, she doesn't think you LOVE HER!"

"And we _know_ you do," Omasu picked up, her voice much gentler than that harsh, accusing growl that Okon was using. "We know you wouldn't take things to this degree with Misao if you _didn't_ love her. Misao loves you a great deal and you have a complex history, one that has underscored that love of hers with doubt. She's unsure she can trust your heart, she doesn't think you understand it. Everything she thinks is doubted, she can't be sure of it."

"Is she unsure if she loves me then?" he asked, his voice oddly hollow.

"No." It was the first time Okon sounded calm once more. "She very much loves you. You don't stop loving someone because they hurt you once or maybe even lots of times and certainly not her."

They lapsed into silence and passed around food. No one ate much and they left soon after. Aoshi's head was a mess.

* * *

"**_She doesn't think you LOVE HER!"_**

"_**We know you wouldn't take things to this degree with Misao if you didn't love her."**_

"_**She's unsure she can trust your heart, she doesn't think you understand it."**_

"_**She very much loves you." **_

Did he love her? They seemed so certain. What if they were wrong? He looked away from the window?

Did he love her?

Of course, he thought. He did… he did love her but they were still wrong. They thought he wouldn't do this to her, that he wouldn't hurt her because he loved her, but that wasn't enough.

He'd always hurt her, he hurt her still…

In the forest, he'd hurt her. He'd shared his suffering with her and then left her to suffer alone… he hung his head.

But she still loved him…

"_You don't stop loving someone because they hurt you once or maybe even lots of times…"_

When he got home then, he would talk to her. Maybe it would help.

Evening brought him back to the Aoiya and he found dinner was just being set out. Misao, he noted, was absent. He sat for several long minutes before looking up at Okina.

"Where is Misao?"

The old man's eyebrow's rose as he reached for his rice bowl and chopsticks. "She said she was tired and would eat a bit later on in the evening. I saw no reason to deny her that."

Aoshi could think of no reason to leave the dinner table and so he stayed and ate. Silence hung over them like a cloud, no one seemed to have anything to say. In a feeble attempt to rescue them all from the uncomfortable silence caused by Misao's absence and Aoshi's presence, Shiro began talking about a few of the troublesome customers they'd had earlier in the day. Aoshi's mind drifted away, far away from the table.

His mind drifted to a forest of bamboo and pine and a cabin full of blood and the feel of a girl beneath him.

Suffering alone… had he left her to suffer alone? What, he wondered would have happened had she become pregnant from that disaster? But he hadn't cared then, what would happen if she became pregnant now? He was still behaving recklessly without thinking of the consequences.

He stood abruptly and the gentle chatter that had settled over the table came to an abrupt halt.

"Excuse me."

He turned and quickly left.

Suffering alone…

Irresponsibility…

Pregnancy…

Misao…

He scaled the stairs and knocked on her door impatiently. They needed to speak now. She didn't answer and he didn't hear her inside so he pulled open the door. He found her futon mat was spread on the floor and she was in bed, apparently sleeping.

Should he wake her?

He thought it over a moment, standing very still in her doorway, his palm pressed to the wood frame.

Yes.

He should.

He stepped fully inside and snapped the door closed behind him. They needed to resolve it now.

Tonight.

He stalked toward her bed feeling like a hunter. He would not be distracted by her charms tonight.

Tonight… he held onto the word like a lifeline.

He kneeled down at her bedside and touched her fabric covered shoulder and shook. He couldn't bring himself to raise his voice and speak to her yet. He felt his courage seeping out of him.

"Mmmph," she moaned and he immediately moved back pulling himself up onto his feet. "What is it?" she asked sleepily.

"Misao," he spoke sternly. "We need to talk."

"Talk?" she asked groggily. She rolled over and yawned, rubbing her eyes. She looked young once more and he quickly looked away. He didn't want to see her this way.

"Yes. Talk."

He heard her blankets shift and rumple and he assumed she stood. When she didn't say anything he glanced back to see her sitting up, one shoulder of her yukata slipping.

"What are we talking about?" she asked sleepily.

"Things," he replied. He needed to tell her. How was he to say it? What was 'it'?

"Marriage," he stated bluntly. "We need to get married."

That woke her up quickly. He half turned to watch her climb to her feet. She seemed a bit shaky. "What?"

He turned fully. "I want to marry you. No thinking about it, no rejecting. We are getting married."

She just stared at him, blinking, looking as if she couldn't believe her eyes or her ears.

He turned toward her with cold, glinting eyes. "I can spend the rest of my life atoning to you for what I've done, but I will not do it any longer outside of a marriage."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you threatening me?" her voice wasn't quite a growl but there was an edge to it. He was glad to see she wasn't about to cry.

"Threatening?"

"Threatening to leave me if I don't agree to marry you?" her voice had hushed to a low whisper. It might have been horror in her voice, it might've been something else.

Would that work? Dare he risk bluffing it? Was it worth anything to stay here if she said "no"?

He stood before her, stiff and silent. "I am telling you _what_ **I** _want_."

She gasped.

"I want to marry you, to stay at the Aoiya with you, to have children and live forever with you. I can't give you anymore than that." He felt frayed around his precious edges. He felt as though he couldn't explain it, as if words, no words, were ever good enough. "If my word isn't good enough for you, I have nothing else."

"It's not that your word isn't good enough …" she started. "I'm just worried you'll suddenly decide you'll leave again and I won't be able to stop you."

Aggravation pooled inside of him. Why couldn't he convince her? Why did it always require more than he had?

"You were a child then, I could not have taken you."

She pouted. "I understand that."

"No." He whirled toward her having stalked away. "I don't think you do. You are more caught up with me trying to protect you as a child than you are about my taking your innocence away from you?"

She shook her head. "Everyone grows up Aoshi-sama, I wouldn't have remained a virgin forever, I'm glad I'm not anymore. I liked doing that with you, maybe not that particular time, that was a little scary. You're a scary man sometimes, you were scary then. You're only scary now in my head and that's okay too, but what happened then can't happen like that again with us."

He grit his teeth together. His jaw muscles were tense. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not a virgin anymore."

"You think just because you're no longer chaste that intercourse won't ever again be painful for you?"

She shook her head. "No, if you wanted to hurt me, you could, I understand that. I was thinking, you were a different man then, your eyes were black, Aoshi-sama, like night. Dark and black and cold. Besides, I don't have nightmares about us being together that day, Aoshi-sama, I have nightmares about you _killing_ me because that's what you looked like then."

He gasped softly, inaudibly, she could see his lips part in surprise.

"I'm not worried you'll hurt me, you're not that man anymore and I'm not afraid of you. Just sometimes when I wake up I feel shaky because it's scary to see someone you love put a sword through your chest and feel pain when you wake up, but it doesn't mean I think it'll happen and it doesn't mean I expect it to."

He stepped back from her, horrified, appalled.

No…

He hadn't known that. Hadn't… kill her?

Never.

Had he looked that way then?

Yes… he knew he had. Death, he'd had eyes of death.

"I do want to marry you, Aoshi-sama. My bad dreams will go away eventually. If they don't, does it even matter? It's not like you can change that… I can't even change it. I just want things to settle."

He backed away and settled onto the floor beside the door. Turning his head downward, hiding his face in the shadow, he spoke again. "Will you marry me?"

"Of course. Can I touch you?"

He raised his head, surprised she was again asking him that question. "Why? Why do you feel you cannot?"

She brought her arms up to hold onto her elbows. "Everything about you just screams 'don't touch'. I don't know." She sighed and sat down on her futon, pushing away her sheets.

"You can touch me…" he paused. "Anywhere you like."

She half turned. "Anywhere? You mean like anywhere on your body or anywhere in the world?"

In the dim light, she could not see the gentle tilt of his lips. "Both." Nor could he see her answering smile.

"Well all right then, I'll take you up on _that_ one." He didn't need to see anything. The smile was in her tone.

Relief.

Ease.

Happiness.

Victory.

"Stop calling me Aoshi-sama." He stood. "I am not worthy of it."

He was reaching for the door and had pulled it open a bare inch when her voice stopped him.

"Aoshi-sama, wait!" She bit her lip. "Oooh, I mean… Sorry… I mean, Aoshi… That's weird sounding," she mused to herself as she scrambled up onto her feet.

He turned back to her as she walked toward him on bare feet.

"Okay, consider it a deal. I won't call you Aoshi-sama and I get to touch you anywhere in any place that I want. So, if the Kyoto police arrest me for public indecency I expect you to come and get me."

Reaching for her, he curled his arm around her narrow shoulders. She tilted her head up toward him while the fingers of his opposite hand traced along her jawbone. This tiny woman that she was… How was it possible that any one person could make another person feel so… whole?

How did people go through life incomplete and not know they were incomplete until they met a person who made them feel… Was there a word? A fullness… A confidence, a happiness that hadn't existed outside that person?

He tilted her head a bit more and lowered his mouth to hers, relishing the softness of her lips. The wetness of her mouth, the warmth of her skin, the gentle grip of her hands… Why would he want to ever do without it? The gentle kiss deepened as he slid downward to his knees, pressing his lips more ardently against hers. He wanted to breathe her in… to taste her forever, to be never without her flavor against his tongue.

"Misao…" he groaned it against her lips, into her mouth, he hoped into the very soul of her.

Never… ever… never forget…

How could there be so much… so much _want_ simply of that other person? The thing men loved and fought and died for… lust… love… women… life… Abruptly, he pulled back from her. Gently, he cradled her head between his hands.

So small, so delicate…

"I will inform Okina."

She nodded absently and he forced himself onto his feet. He couldn't, _wouldn't_, stay with her no matter how his body begged for her attention. Okina, he thought, remember Okina…

No matter how much he longed to let her _touch_ him until he was so sated he could not drag himself from her floor, he wouldn't… He turned toward the door and stepped out.

* * *

Two weeks past.

Agonizing weeks.

Misao had been grouchy and snappish. Aoshi had been quiet and withdrawn. It was what no one expected following news of their betrothal. Okina had been thrilled, all but dancing around the Aoiya and the others had been happy.

It was the _couple_ that was most unhappy with the arrangement. In the two weeks since the announcement, they'd both been behaving oddly. If they noticed the glances of the others, they gave no indication of it.

When Misao stood up moodily and glared, the others turned their gazes into their rice bowls.

"Aoshi-sama, I want to talk to you," she demanded. "Upstairs. Right now."

Without waiting, she stormed away and her footsteps were easily audible as she stomped up the wooden stairs toward her room. Everyone was wisely silent as Aoshi stood and followed after her with none of the anger.

He had no sooner stepped into the room than she turned away from the window she'd been standing beside. She whirled quickly on the ball of her foot and glared. Her anger filled the room like a sticky summer heat.

"This… is… _stupid!"_

This?

"Why do we have to do this?" she continued. "What kind of idiot needs a MONTH to plan a stupid wedding? And even if I do have a wait a MONTH, Aoshi-sama, why can't I touch you? You said-"

"I also asked you not to call me that," he gently interrupted.

She gave him a _look_ and continued on her tirade. "Well it isn't as if you're holding up your end of the deal, remember? Remember that? _Anywhere and anywhere_ and you've been avoiding me like I've caught some ugly disease!"

He shook his head gently. "Misao, please. It is a small request to wait until we are wed."

She huffed and crossed her arms. "But I _want_ you to touch me, Aoshi-sama…"

"Don't…" he replied, his voice.

"I want your hands all over me, Aoshi-_sama_."

"Misao-"

"I want to drag you to the floor and crawl in your lap-"

"Misao-"

"I want to strip you out of those clothes and-"

"Misao-"

"…and TOUCH you, Aoshi-_sama,_ and I mean it _that_ way this time." She stood on her tip toes, curling her hands in the material at his chest. "I want you in my _hands_, Aoshi-_sama_."

His breath was caught in his lungs, trapped there by the sudden, violent surge of desire. He wanted to grab her by the wrists, toss her to the floor, and have her… Couldn't she see that? Did she think she was the only one frustrated? Did she _have_ to torture him so? To tempt him?

He pushed her away, she stumbled back a pace but no farther.

His cock throbbed painfully.

If she _touched_ him… if she…

He had to leave.

Now.

Now, or he'd take her right here on the floor. Or the bed. Or against the wall.

Damn, he'd even take her in the hallway.

He was leaving.

Now.

"Go to bed, Misao."

The order was curt, but she showed no inclination of obeying him.

"Certainly, Aoshi-_sama_. Come with me."

Two weeks.

Two weeks of hell.

Another week to go.

"It will be worth it to wait."

She scowled. "Get out of my room."

"Misao-"

"OUT!"

* * *

They avoided each other for the rest of the week, dodging meals and sleeping at odd times of day. The others watched curiously but said nothing.

Misao wanted to drag her hands through her hair, pull out all the stupid little hairpins and rain them over the lavishly decorated tables. She appreciated the effort, she really did, but this wasn't some perfect fairy tale for her.

Or… it was… she was simply annoyed. Aoshi had been a positive ice block all week. It had gotten so bad she wondered, when the time came, if he was going to tell the priest marrying them he didn't want to marry her anymore.

Now, four hours after said ceremony, well and truly wed, Misao was annoyed, hungry, and a little tipsy. There had been the sake from the ceremony itself and then the six cups she'd had since she sat down.

It had been four hours.

Four hours.

They were still partying.

Thankfully, the party was small including few more than some Oniwabanshuu associates that had, mostly, already left, her Tokyo friends, and her immediate family.

Four hours was a long time, she thought.

A long time.

Especially when she wanted to get Aoshi upstairs and either kill him or tear off his clothes. She wasn't sure why it was _bothering_ her so much, only that having been given permission to touch him and then having that privilege suddenly denied irked her. Plus, she _liked_ him touching her. His not wanting to just… it was… it kind of hurt. Like he didn't _want_ her anymore…

Aoshi had drank his obligatory sake and then refused to touch anymore. He wasn't talking to anyone, he wasn't _partying,_ so why the hell couldn't they go to bed?

It had been FOUR hours!

She stood up. "I'm going to bed," she announced gruffly and started stalking toward the door and then right out it.

* * *

Aoshi watched Misao growl at Sano by the door and then disappear. If the way the young man was frowning was any indication, Misao had had nothing good to say to him. She had taken their… separation… especially poorly. Especially considering they hadn't been _interacting_ regularly before his request to wait until they had wed.

She had been antsy, snappish and moody all day. He stood.

"I apologize for Misao, she's…had a difficult week."

The Tokyo party had only arrived the day before. They would know nothing of Misao's antics for the past _three_ weeks and he saw no need to explain _that_ to anyone. She would be over it by tomorrow, that he was certain of.

Kamiya Kaoru, however, was not keen to let the topic drop. "Is she unwell? She didn't mention feeling under the weather."

"Maybe it's just lady troubles," Megumi suggested, her voice not loud enough to carry beyond the small table.

Aoshi let that one go. He wouldn't even consider that until he had to.

"If you will excuse me, I'm going to retire."

There was a chorus of farewells tossed in his direction as he moved toward the door. Just beyond it, Sano was holding a jug of sake.

"Yo, Shinomori- you know your wife was threatening harm to my balls just a few minutes ago. I'd be careful, she's in a hell of a mood."

Aoshi's gaze flickered away from Sano toward the sound of footfalls to see Saitou step out. Who had invited him?

A loose curl of cigarette smoke rose into the air. "Che. Rooster, she's not interested in _your_ balls."

Aoshi frowned and stepped away. "Goodnight."

He tried to collect his thoughts as he ascended the stairs. Would Misao be in her room or his? Suddenly, he realized they hadn't discussed it in their avid quest to avoid one another. In fact, they hadn't discussed _anything_ after they agreed to get married.

Stopping by her room first, he knocked and slid open the door, peering inside.

Empty.

So she had gone to _his_ room then.

Good.

He'd wanted her there anyway. Fantasies of her in his bed had plagued him all week. The bed, the floor, the windowsill…

Standing outside his doorway, he briefly wondered if she had gone somewhere else. Had she gotten angry and stormed outside instead? He slid open his door to find her standing by his futon. A double futon.

Apparently, Omasu or Okon had set up his room before hand, moving Misao's bedding to his room. Misao certainly hadn't done it. Okina had kept her locked away in a room downstairs with dressers and face artists all morning preparing for the ceremony.

She glared and turned away fiddling with something in her hair. He stepped in, sliding the door closed. Was she still angry? Even now?

He watched her yank at the hair sticks and pins holding up her elaborate hairstyle before his eyes dragged down her frame to the obi around her midsection. Raising his hands up, he gently touched his fingers toward it. He expected soft, but the cloth was thick and coarse. Gently, he pulled at it, sliding the material against itself, undoing the tucks and folds. As he unwound it from her, he discarded the ribbons and padding.

"Hurry! This thing is hot and I officially hate this obi, I feel like I'm wearing a huge pillow around my waist and I can't move my legs enough."

The material gathered around her ankles and she sighed as it finally peeled off of her. The breath was long, relieved. Reaching for the back of her collar, he tugged it down exposing more of her neck and then he leaned forward, bending over her to press his lips to her skin. She tensed as he kissed the back of her neck, flicking his tongue against the bone just under her flesh.

Pressing his hands to her shoulders he gathered the material, sliding her outer kimono off where it pooled at her elbows and off her hands. Abruptly, she shoved one elbow backward almost catching him in the abdomen. When he drew back, she spun around and threw her arms around his waist. His chest felt full of feeling. His skin tingled.

Reaching back, he unclasped her arms and leaned down so they were nose to nose. "Misao…" His voice was soft in the silent room. "Get naked."

For a moment, she seemed surprised at the bold request but then her lips curled and she stepped away from him sliding her hands behind her to nimbly untie the knots of her under kimono. He stepped back, pressing his back to the wall.

There were two low candles burning on the nearby table. He silently praised her forethought. He didn't want total darkness. She didn't sway or shimmy as she pulled at the clothes. There was no rush in her movements. Rather, she was led by caution and a sudden bout of shyness as she slowly disrobed, pulling away the final ties before her last slip parted and he saw pure, milky skin.

His mouth went dry and then immediately afterwards wet. He wanted to lick her from neck to hip.

"Off," he curtly ordered as she hesitated in slipping away the silky white slip.

In response, she let it slide from her shoulders where it pooled into a chalky puddle at her ankles. Self-consciously, she pulled her arms across her chest, shifting awkwardly. He wanted to quirk his lips at her. She had wanted this for weeks and now she was going to hide?

He pushed away from the wall sliding out of his black outer jacket, handing it to her. "Put this on."

More fantasy.

She slid the black garment over her white skin. No sooner had he glanced over her in the garment she was too tiny for did he fall on her with the grace of a battle axe. Her moan was swallowed, crushed by the hard pressure of his mouth. Lust coiled in his belly, burning him. His hands fisted in her hair knocking pins over the bedding, half tilting her hair as he dragged them down sliding under the silk to touch her skin.

Hot.

She was so hot.

He drew his hands down, curling his hands around her tiny hips.

Pushing.

Down.

Until her knees were on the floor and he tilted her back onto the bedding, her legs unfolding from beneath her. She made an ungraceful sound as she collapsed onto it.

Pulling away from her, he settled down, crossing his legs. He pulled at the ties of his own garments and her tiny hands jumped right in to assist, unwinding the sash at his waist and diving below the waistband the moment it was free.

His groan was an inhuman sound growled directly into her ear.

"Ready for me, Aoshi?"

Her voice was a hot thrill down his spine.

"Always," he gruffly answered. "In my lap, Misao."

She obeyed, spreading her legs over his, opening herself wide. Aoshi wondered if he could climax just _looking_ at her. Taking her by the narrow hips, he aligned himself beneath her, and her above him, and slid himself in.

She was _not_ ready for him and the grimace on her face reminded him abruptly that Misao, despite her eagerness, was still very inexperienced.

"Misao…"

Her eyes flicked open. A soft, blotchy flush had turned her cheeks and her neck pink.

"Ride me."

Blinking at him in puzzlement, Aoshi pressed his hands to her hips and lifted her. Her eyes went wide. "Oh."

She pushed herself back down, shifting her footing. Slowly, she moved, sliding herself awkwardly. Sliding his hands from her hips he leaned back, forcing himself not to touch her, not to move her against him hard.

Her movements were slow, a soft slide of flesh. He balled his hands into fists on the floor, not touching… not touching… if he touched her, he'd force her down onto him too hard.

A sudden shudder passed down his spine and his muscles twitched as she lowered herself down onto him fully. So warm inside… she squeezed him.

He felt compelled to watch, to stay still as she leaned back to press her palms to his thighs arching. His black jacket still hung from her shoulders, stark against her pearly skin. Groaning, she lifted herself up and then down again, testing his sanity with her movements. His mind was split into a thousand tiny threads, a thousand different thoughts, a thousand different sensations…

Lust…

Heat…

Cold…

Sweat…

She overwhelmed him.

"Aoshi-"

The "-sama" was lost as he leaned forward, lapping his tongue against her.

"Faster."

"Aoshi-sama…" she leaned forward suddenly, lifting herself up to bite his earlobe. "Oh… please…"

"Please what?" his words sounded much like groans.

"Please," she whispered softly.

In the span of a breath, she was pressed into the futon bedding, her skin curled softly into his black fabric overtop their linens and his hips thrust hard.

His mind curled and unfettered as his pleasure grew. Her hand curled in his cloth, her body, her heat surrounding him drove him nearly to madness.

"... ... ..."

Beneath him, she quieted, and he fell over her.

In the dimness of the room, they panted.

"…wife…" he whispered into her ear.

Her arms slid up to curl around him. The word whispered into the darkness seemed to slam doors closed, in his mind, he hadn't realized were open.

Wife.

He turned and pressed his back to the futon, laying her atop him.

His wife.

Married.

A deep seated contentment warmed his chest. He had her, this woman who loved him more than all else.

His nightmares and her nightmares…

Husband and wife.

She belonged to him. Through madness and murder and pain she had loved him. He, laying there and staring at the ceiling made a silent vow to always be with her.

Misao had been unfailingly loyal. He hoped. That moment, he prayed, to his ancestors, to God, that he should never ever fail her.

"'Husband', that's something I'll have to get used to," she murmured with a soft yawn.

"Tired?"

"No. Yeah. I feel energized and sleepy. Kind of heavy…"

"Do you fear sleeping beside me?" he dreaded her answer, but she was forthcoming.

"No. I want you to sleep beside me always," she answered softly. "Promise me you will."

Curling his arms around her he held her tight to his skin despite the sweat. "I will promise you anything."

* * *

AN: And that's the end. This has been done a while so I feel bad about not posting it until now. And the last scene was, uh, choppy? That's because this site doesn't allow lemons so it was... censored. My way of censoring is to remove keywords, phrases and sentences that are too... sensitive and I usually replace them with nothing so it breaks up the story a bit but you can figure it out okay. Thanks for reading. 


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